


My Coloured Soul

by Sherrenford



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Conditioning, Forced Marriage, I have to write it, M/M, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Medical Examination, My First AO3 Post, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Past Child Abuse, Slow Build, Training Camp, War, blame strange dreams, even though I don't write well, i have no idea what i am doing, no really this brain child won't leave me alone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:42:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1887114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherrenford/pseuds/Sherrenford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I didn't want this. We tried so hard to pass me off as a Beta, and we nearly succeeded. I have no idea what my husband will do with me, but in case the worst should happen, I will write my story as much as a can. If nothing else, my mother will know what happened. </p>
<p>-Or, an omega pretending to be a beta fails at hiding, gets bought for marriage, and tries to make the best of it. More tags as they occur, no idea of expected length, etcetera.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Distinct Discomfort

**Author's Note:**

> I am writing this literally as it happens in my head. I do not have a beta, unfortunately, and for that I apologise. There is a vague outline of what is to happen written down somewhere in the mess of my room, but otherwise, its just kind of... Writing itself.   
> The tenses jump around because the timeline jumps around. Basically, present tense is present time, past tense is past events. Just to help keep them obvious, I'm also putting the past in italics.

The bidding started slow. I wasn't really expecting any bids at all, aside from the sadistic ones. Mother and I head those off as quickly as we can. We paint so many pictures of my personality that I am starting to feel like a fuzzed-out blur. For the ones that seek to break me, I am the picture of Omega obedience. Demure, all fluttering lashes and lowered eyes, perfect posture with my hands folded elegantly in my lap. A complete departure from the disobedient wild cat the media loves painting me. My colours are soft and muted for those sorts of Alphas. Once those retract their bids, I breathe freely again. Very few of the bids are after anything else. I note, with barest pastel orange annoyance, three bids for my appearance alone. I snarl and snap my teeth at these few; retracted, immediately. Those Alphas who are looking for a pretty little ornament are rarely willing to work for it. Then there are those very few who seek me for my so called 'exotic' nature. For these, I lean back in my chair like an Alpha, feet propped up and knees wide, and then I light a cigarette. Revealing my trousers is often more than enough to shock them off the bid, but the addition of that little white stick hanging from my lips, smoke curling silvery around my face, often had them in a rage. 

"You are a parody of an Omega," they would snarl. "You'll never be wed, foul little creature that you are." 

Ah, but you see, that is entirely the point. 

 

_Mother and I concocted contingency plans all through the night when I had been reentered into the registry, but only one had been deemed reliable. Should a bidder fail to retract, I would go quietly to the wedding, and take at least a month to determine what sort of treatment I would be in for. If he treated me well, I would accept my fate. If he did not, I would begin biting. Any Omega with a tendency for biting is sent to the sanitarium, which was basically the next best thing to actually being home. They placed very few restrictions on those of us deemed to have 'troubled minds'. Mother would be permitted to visit freely, or even take up residence with me herself, to 'help control me'. No Alphas, no knotting, no expectations, a library and gardens; this would be as close to freedom as either of us would ever get. They even allowed contact with outside friends. The only step I needed to take to have all that was to bite my Alpha a few times. Every Alpha knew that bitey Omegas were unfit for anything, let alone belonging to and performing for them._

 

_As far as I knew, I was the only Omega to chafe under my designation. A unique upbringing was to blame, I supposed. Betas perhaps didn't notice this, but neither Alphas nor Omegas were ever, ever seen in public until after their training. Because of the traditions that surrounded Alpha/Omega families, and the fact that we all got out of training at different times, I imagined it wouldn't have been something that stood out too terribly. The truth was, it was utterly illegal for contact with an untrained child of one of these families, and as we were whisked off to training the very day our first heat or rut ended, you would never meet a fully presented, untrained individual of either designation. This was because the rules that restricted our lives needed to be applied to a blank slate. Anything we picked up before training could ruin the trainer's ability to control us. And really, that's all the training was; a way to control us. They wired us to obey, to follow set patterns, to never question our places. I never learned what had happened to make my mother break the pattern, for whenever I asked, the pain in her eyes silenced me swiftly. But break it she did, and somehow, no one noticed how bold and defiant her colours truly were._

 

_It was common for an omega to present around the age of five, and it was customary that we were to remain very nearly isolated until that time. Alphas suffered the same, though they often presented at around eight years old. We were only allowed contact with our families and some very close friends of our parents, but only if none of those people were Beta. My mother thought this rule to be a dull brown stupid. My Beta cousins and I played together often, as well as the Beta children of her friends. That isn't to say I was a very social child; mother broke the law once again in teaching me how to read. As soon as the lands and adventures contained between the pages became available to me, I took to them like a moth to a flame, peach coloured delight blooming warm within me. From adventures and fairy tales, she continued laughing in the face of legislature by bringing me home Beta text books and work sheets from her job at the elementary school. By the time I presented, I could have easily held my own in a fourth grade classroom. This would eventually bring me nothing but red I black pain, but at the time, I was bathed in golden pride._


	2. Trickles and Flickers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There will be inconsistent post times. Work is a terrible burden on anyone who writes. After this one, there will be a bit of a wait, though I'm not sure how long. Thank you for reading.  
> Still no beta reader; sorry.

The bids have trickled to nearly nothing. My relief is a mint-green wave, gently lapping at my toes. After the sadistic and disturbed ones stopped bidding, there is a mere dribble of earnest ones, all thrown by my foul nature, eventually. We now sit around the table in the sun room, smuggled cigarettes and alcohol in our hands. Magaere's pup is at her Yiayia's and Pappou's house, and so she drinks and smokes. Belinda has her strange blended vegetable drink right there beside her wine, and Sevastianos is red faced with both beer and glee. Amelia must have been the one to tell the joke, as her beer hangs limo from her hand as she looks from face to face expectantly. Neither mother nor I care much for Bianca; we share secret looks and eye rolls when she is not looking. It would have been rude to leave her out, especially with her daughter Sienna sitting between my twin brothers, always welcome in our home. My brothers are so focussed on their phones, you would think the secrets of life and the universe were being revealed to them, though they are likely only looking at recent Omega registries. The twins are your typical Alpha males, focused on breeding and being as masculine as possible, despite slight builds running in the family. Owain is the taller, six foot four with his pale yellow hair and mother's crystalline green eyes. Moren is barely an inch shorter and only a single shade darker, blue in the place of green. Both completely dwarf my own five foot four. Were it not for her deep mahogany hair, young Beta Sienna could almost pass for their sister. Her mannerisms, too; she is also lost in her phone. I think it is a trait applied to their age, for all three are eighteen. Magaere brought us the four cartons of cigarettes smuggled in her large purse. I regret mocking it, but only a little. Sevastianos did not even bother trying to hide his backpack full of beer and wine. We are under watch now, thanks to the destruction of our careful ruse, and Omegas are not permitted to purchase such items without the express consent of their Alphas. Father died in the war, and we are glad of it, so all of our vices are supplied us by Beta companions. Another joke is told, and our laughter echoes out the windows, but it is still not loud enough to drown out the ping from the auction tablet. Silence falls, swift and pale yellow with anticipation. It is another bid. There is only an hour left; we had thought to celebrate a successful avoidance. My throat is tight. 

 

_I presented as expected at the age of five. What made my presentation unique was my gender/designation combination. The rarest of the rare, one of only eight male Omegas in the entire country. I remember the first Heat as it creepers through me; aptly named, as it had begun with a fever. An ache followed, low in my belly, and then the first rush of slick began leaking down my thighs. This was accompanied by a feeling of profound emptiness, a dark, painful grey-blue that left me gasping. Mother caught my new scent immediately, and I heard her rushing through the house to find me. And find me she did, as I had not moved from my place on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor where I had curled up to fight the fever. She held me through that Heat, smoothing my hair back from my damp forehead, and speaking soft words of baby-pink comfort. Mother scarcely left my side for all five days of my new, bimonthly hell, leaving only to fetch broth and tea for me to struggle into my body. Hell was an accurate description of an unfulfilled Heat. The craving for physical contact is intense, but the burn of it is as nothing next to the supernova of craving to fill the emptiness. I did not understand it then, but I needed a knot with every fibre of my being, even a false one would do. Mother's bondmate was dead, though; her Heats did not occur anymore, and so she had nothing more to offer me than cool hands on my burning face while she cradled me in her lap. When it finally, blessedly ended, she tool me aside with red-orange urgency glinting in the depths of her eyes._

_"Do you understand what is happening to you, my Rhys?"_

_I did, and I said as much with a bright smile on my face. I was proud, golden proud that I could answer her questions so easily. Rather than return the smile as she had so many times in the past, however, my mother's face crumpled in dismay._

_"Mummah? What's wrong, mummah?" Lilac concern had coloured my mind, and it only morphed into jade confusion when she shook her head, took my hand, and led me to the learning room. Jade turned instantly to poppy red alarm when she began throwing armfuls of our books and papers into the little fireplace._

_"Mummah! Why?" I was dancing in place, small fists clenched against my mouth while my mother made short work of two years worth of materials. She turned abruptly then, and once more scooped me up into her arms. Clutching me tightly to her breast, she began murmuring the instructions that would save my life many times over._

 

_"You must learn to act, my little love. Acting is the only thing that can help you now. You will be taken, love, to the Omega training facility, and there they will teach you things. I need, little one, you need to pretend to forget everything I taught you. Yes, even how to read. They want Omegas with nothing in their heads. You must pretend that this is so. Do you understand, my Rhys?" _

_I remember nodding, mind still pulsing jade with tendrils of deepest royal blue fear creeping the edges. And then she set me back on my feet, took my face between her hands, and finally, finally smiled at me._

_"If you can do that, my Rhys, everything will be all right."_

 

_The jade was slowly swallowed utterly by deep fear-blue as she explained to me all the things I would have to hide. How would I be able to hide that I could read and write, or that I knew my sums, or that I also knew where the borders of the country lay? These tasks seemed impossible, but as my mother said, if I could do these things, everything would be all right. I do not remember how many times I had to promise her that I would indeed do these things before the smoky grey of calm finally seeped into her mood. She allowed it to swallow her whole, and then she took sedately to action. She found and finished burning the little evidences of my education; our lessons, I now knew, were highly illegal. Following that, she led me to my room and opened her phone, directing me with nods of her head and gestures what to pack while she spoke to the Omega Protection Society about my newly presented state. She nodded and 'mhmm'd and 'yes sir'd for many long minutes while my jade concern began to swarm back at all the items I would be leaving behind. No books, though this did not surprise me; none of my coloured clothes, only monochromes; none of my soft toys or the woollen blanket mother had knitted for me. I was given that blanket at birth, and so I did not know how I would sleep without it, never having done so. Mother's warning head shake told me that I was soon to learn. Even more to my dismay, though, was when mother's phone conversation ended with, "And your representative will be here in fifteen minutes? Alright. He will be ready."_

_My head snapped up, eyed filled with tears, heart stopped._


	3. The Road Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here we are with the third chapter. I would like to thank you all for your kudos, comments and bookmarks. They are like fuel to my fire. 
> 
> Feel free to visit me on Tumblr, if you would like. [Sherrenford](http://sherrenford.tumblr.com)

The tablet lights up, and mother hesitantly plucks it off the table and presses her thumb to the print reader. She examines it a moment, taking in the bidder information, before gesturing for me to follow her into the vid-con room for the interview. I pick up my cigarettes and wordlessly follow. The screen flickers to life at our approach, and displays the profiles for both Alpha Keyon Ashwood and his mentor, for he is still young, Alden Ordiway. I do have to admit that upon first inspection, Alpha Keyon is attractive. Curled, burnished gold hair, a strong jawline, almond shaped eyes the colour of sunlit amber, and he is fit. His mentor, on the other hand, scares me just a little. His eyes are small and dark, set deep in a regal face, all high cheekbones and squared-off angles, with close cropped no-colour hair. He looks incredibly severe, and his eyes reveal nothing of the man behind them. I glance briefly at mother, then look at her full on, a starburst of fire yellow surprise flaring brightly through my mind. She is worried. None of the other bids had her this worried. Her eyes are narrowed, lips pursed, and she chews at the inside of her cheek. She catches my eye and shakes her head, silencing my unasked questions on my tongue just as the vid-con opens.

"Aneyra Idle, Madam Omega. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Alden Ordiway, mentor to Alpha Keyon Ashwood, and I speak today on his behalf " Alpha Keyon himself is seated beside Alpha Alden, and I am briefly struck by how impeccably they are dressed. I can very nearly smell the reek of the unconsciously rich through the line. Unassuming but obviously bespoke charcoal grey suits designed to incite calm, accented by ties and pocket squares in their house colours; a copper and gold striped tie with a red square for Alpha Keyon, and brown and white tie accompanied by a green square for Alpha Alden. One reminds me of blood on sand and the other of peat moss and steam. Neither image endears the Alphas to me; as a child, I once lost a shoe to a peat bog. I keep my face neutral, however, and note that while Alpha Alden's gaze is focussed on my mother, Alpha Keyon's eyes bore into mine. He barely blinks, let alone looks away.

"Thank you, Alpha Ordiway, for your kind words. I understand Alpha Ashwood has an interest in my son." This should be, in a polite interview, a question, but my mother's inflections hints more at derision than curiosity. Alpha Keyon is still regarding me intently. I feel as though I cannot look away, as though breaking this eye contact means losing. I despise losing.

"Yes, Madam Omega. Keyon is a particular man, with distinct tastes. We are of the opinion that young Omega Idle could very well be an exemplary fit."

"And what sort of 'tastes' would those be?" I can hear my mother restraining herself, making a herculean effort to remain civil. My throat tastes faintly of bile; the last Alpha to claim 'distinct tastes' had been thrilled to describe to us at length all the ways he was imagining painting my pale skin crimson. I narrow my eyes at Alpha Keyon, and as he realises the implication, his own eyes widen while his brows knit together above them. Either he is acting for me, or that is truly not his intention. I cannot yet tell which, and both directions worry me to a degree. Alpha Alden has also caught on to mother's meaning quickly.

"I assure you, Madam Omega, that young Keyon has absolutely no desire to harm your lovely son. He is just... Shall we say, disenchanted with the average Omega. Specifically, the average Omega demeanour. Keyon is not inclined towards the standard 'wilting flower, pretty but dull' of most Omegas. He is instead rather keen on meeting your son; an Omega with a mind of his own is an exciting departure from, in Keyon's own words, 'the despairingly dull.'" My mother grows silent at this, contemplative. I lean back in my chair just a touch, narrow my eyes at Alpha Keyon, and tilt my head to the side. This is utterly unprecedented. I am uncertain, for once. However, despite the Alpha Mentor's honeyed words, I am not foolish enough to trust them. Especially when I see a flush begin to creep up Alpha Keyon's cheeks, and his gaze finally drops to his lap. Mother near-silently huffs a breath through her nose; we are both taking his reaction as an unspoken admission of guilt. Time to start in on getting rid of them. I swing my braid behind me and indolently fling my feet up on to the desk, knees held wide and my chair tilted back on two legs. It is a purely Alpha posture, and it also reveals that I am wearing a pair of Moren's trousers, rather than Omega appropriate gowns. To my slight alarm, though, neither Alpha reacts. I had expected a slightly offended expression in the Mentor, at the least. No matter. I remain as impassive as ever, and I begin the process of digging out and lighting a cigarette. Unease is tingling at the base of my spine, though. Alphas this skilled at deception spell trouble.

 

_I clung to mother and sobbed unabashedly for what felt like hours, though I knew it could not have been more than a few scant minutes. As she had told me, the length of time I would spend away at training would depend entirely on my acting ability, but nothing could make it any less than the required ten years. To be away from mother for so long, longer than I had even had with her to begin with, sent into the heart of danger and surrounded on all sides by the enemy, seemed to my five year old self a fate worse than death. All the same, three male Betas sent from the society pulled their shiny silver van into the drive almost exactly fifteen minutes later. Mother and I were crouched together on the front step. My small black suitcase filled with all the possessions that would be allowed me for the next ten years rested beside me, and it put me in mind of a tombstone. Kneeling beside me, mother once again took my small face between her cool hands. She looked into my eyes and smiled, though I could see at once it was false. She pressed her lips once to my forehead and once to the tip of my nose, and then whispered, "Be strong, my Rhys." She released me and rose to respectfully greet the Beta men, in their crisp, blue-grey uniforms. I chose instead to stare intently at the hem of her gown, committing to memory the elegant swirl of autumn leaves and dancing foxes as though it would be the last I ever saw of it. My fierce concentration was broken when a hand was laid on my shoulder, startling me slightly. I looked up into the deeply violet eyes of one of the Betas, and he gave me my second false smile of the day._

_"Are you ready to go, little guy?" No. I was not. I did not want to go at all. I did not want to leave my mother, I did not want to be forced to pretend I was empty-headed and ornamental, and on top of that, the man's scent was some kind of whiskey, and even though a Beta's scent is fainter than an Alpha's or an Omega's, it still burned my nose. Nothing that happened today was what I wanted. But mother's warnings and my own thousand promises stilled those words on my tongue, and instead I only nodded. One of the other men, whose scent reminded me of wet wool, stooped to pick up my tint case and turned to the van. The whiskey man flashed me another false smile, and he held out his hand to me. I looked one last time at my mother, who was gazing at me with the cool, slightly glazed and distant look that is expected of an Omega in public, then I closed my eyes to harden my resolve and placed my hand in his. Rather than lead me to the van as I expected, though, he instead tugged me sharply to his side and his remaining partner stepped quickly forward to place a black sack over my head. I squealed in alarm, but the whiskey man only slung me over his shoulder like a sack of grain and began moving. I was placed in the van, buckled down with what seemed to me like an excessive amount of straps, heard doors slamming, and then the vehicle began moving. Apart from the rumble of the engine, there was nothing but silence. I bit my lip inside my hood, trying desperately not to cry. They had, for whatever reason, strapped my wrists to my thighs, so if I let myself cry, I would not be able to wipe the tears from my face before they removed the hood. This was the reasoning I used to keep myself from weeping._

 

_I could not tell how long we drove, nor where we went, obviously, but it felt to me like much longer than the fifteen minutes it had taken them to arrive at my house, so I deduced that they were dispatched from all over, but took their passengers to a single facility. The straps dug in to my shoulders, my waist, my thighs and wrists and ankles. The Betas did not speak. Whiskey man sat nearest me, and I had begun to fear him the moment he grabbed me off the step, so I held my tongue. My promise to mother to act stupid would be upheld, but I reasoned that as long as I never revealed it, I could still use the intellect that mother had seen fit to gift me with for my own entertainment. And so I passed the time by making deductions. This had been a favourite game of mother's and mine before today, and even for a five year old I was rather good at it, though still infused with a childish optimism. I reasoned that the hood was to keep the location of the centre a surprise, because even these severe seeming Betas knew that children loved surprises. The straps, my mind said, were for safety. I could not see, and so I was more likely to hurt myself if I moved around too much. I decided that sending three large Betas to pick up one small child had to be because they were bodyguards. I was a male Omega, the rarest of the rare, and highly sought after. Bodyguards would make sense, for someone so special as myself. Finally, these Betas were silent because they did not want to overwhelm me. It had already been a trying day, and these kind Betas were ensuring that I was not too exhausted before my arrival at the centre. Not a single one of these guesses could have been further from the truth, but at the time, they had been some measure of a comfort to me, and I would soon need all the comfort I could get._


	4. Chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun times ahead. Except, not really. 
> 
> We have a beta reader! Her name is [MidnightShadow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightShadow) Class, say hello. 
> 
> I'm so very thankful for all the kudos and love.

Grey-calm and slow, I release the smoke from my lungs. My eyes are closed, my posture one of utter indolence, and inwardly I smile. This is the last defence I have against Alpha bidders; no Alpha in his right mind would pay for so corrupt an Omega as one who smokes.

But the expected cries of outrage do not come. My mask of calm and control firmly in place, I open my eyes and turn my face to the vid-con, boldly and rudely locking eyes with Alpha Keyon once more. It is here that my mask is nearly - oh so very nearly - blown right off my face. There is no outrage. There is no disgust. I am not even being graced with annoyance. Instead, I am met with the barest of half-smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes twinkle with warmth. I am about to commit one of the deadliest of Omega sins, nearly speaking out of turn, when Alpha Alden beats me to it.

"For now, I feel we have seen enough. Your son, Madam Idle, will suit Alpha Keyon nicely." Neither my mother nor I miss the increasingly respectful way he is addressing her, and at this we openly share a brief glance. Mother turns back to the screen, takes a breath, and opens her mouth to speak, but we are once again overridden. Alpha Keyon's eyes grab mine once more, and he says, "As a gesture of good will, we will increase the bid, though you are worth far more to me than mere money, little one. I must apologise, however, for the Ancestral House Clause written into the contract we will be sending you. My elder brother is master of the estate; otherwise I would have it removed at once. My only hope is that you come out of it and to me intact." He pauses and regards me with that irritating half-smile once more. Then he says something that truly makes my eyes widen in shock.

"I look forward to belonging to you, Omega Rhys."

The vid-con screen goes dead. I am frozen, numb, paralysed. I stare at the point on the wall where Alpha Keyon's face had just been, eyes unseeing while my mind flutters as though replaced by a thousand sparrows. For the first time since mother taught me speech, I am without words. Moments after the screen dies, a notification sounds from both the auction tablet and the computer terminal across the room. It is his renewed bid. The sound jerks me from my stupor, and together my mother and I cautiously approach the terminal, as though worried it might suddenly grow teeth and bite. A mere instant after the screen wakes, mother's hands fly to her mouth, her eyes saucer-round. It takes me a moment to locate the bid as I am not as familiar with the interface as she, but when I do, I cannot help but become her twin. One million pounds. Alpha Keyon has bid one. Million. Pounds. An absurd amount, in truth. My breeding is not prestigious, and I am the laughing stock of the media. I am a nonentity. At best, we had hoped for a number in the low tens of thousands, but this? It is... It is...

"Is he mocking us?" Mother's quiet whisper barely reaches above the hum of the terminal. I shake my head, partially to clear it, partially in denial, and wholly in dismay. "Some gesture of good will..." I murmur back. "A number like that is dangerous." My thoughts turn bronze with suspicion, threaded once again with fear blue. I will not voice it for mother's sake, but I fear no longer for my freedom. I fear now for my very life.

 

_The very first thing I noted about the training centre was the smell. The bag still covered my head, even as they led me inside, but the smell was so pervasive and powerful that I now hoped they would leave it on me. It was as if someone was holding a rag soaked in antiseptic cleaner directly beneath my nose as they led me through what seemed like an unnecessarily maze like building. I could only vaguely scent other young Omegas throughout the twisting corridors, somehow dulled as though they were trying to hide themselves. This, I would later learn was entirely on purpose. If one Omega panicked, the others would pick up the scent, and then all would be chaos. This place was all about controlling us._

_I was taken to a small room and the door was closed behind us before they finally removed my hood. The room was stark white, tiled from floor to ceiling, with an industrial looking spray hose on one wall and a large, grate covered drain in the middle of the floor. There were no windows. Whiskey man immediately began undressing me the moment my hood was tugged from my head, his motions brusque and mechanical. The wool scented Beta entered the room carrying a small tool box which, after he opened it, revealed various scrubbing tools, strange soaps, and several other things I had never seen before, but which had my stomach twisting with a greenish brown discomfort. Whiskey man then pushed me rather harshly into the centre of the room, picked up the hose, and silently began soaking me. The water was freezing. I yelped and cowered from it. This was the moment my illusions formed in the van were to be shattered, though. Wet wool man grunted in irritation and stalked over to me, swatting my thigh with one of the long handled scrub brushes. I gasped in pain and tears sprig to my eyes. "Be still!" He barked, then he roughly hauled me to my feet. As soon as he stepped back, the spray was on me once again. The whisky man drenched me thoroughly, not a single emotion written on his face. At some point he seemed to decide I was as wet as I was ever going to get, and then both he and the wool man descended upon me with soap and brushes. The soap was scentless, and I later learned that it also contained some kind of scent blocker, which accounted for the earlier vague hints of other Omegas. The brushes felt like steel wool to my sensitive, shivering flesh, and neither Beta seemed inclined towards gentleness any longer. After I had been scrubbed to within an inch of my life, a rough, soapy cloth was taken to my tiny genitals, and then I was abruptly shoved to the floor. I winced and nearly bit clean through my lip when I fell; I had been chewing it to contain my whimpers as they had scrubbed me raw. I tasted blood, and then I was manhandled onto my hands and knees. The odd ddevices that had so discomfited me were now put to use. They were a speculum, to inspect for virginity and cleanliness, followed by an agonising, scent blocking enema. They rinsed out my insides at least three times, and then it was the hose once more, rinsed off like a soapy car. At this point I was actually grateful for the chilled water, it served the dual purposes of soothing my raw skin, and also hiding the tears that I could no longer contain._

_After towelling me off with what felt like a piece of burlap, I was dressed in unfamiliar clothing. An utterly Spartan long sleeved tunic that fell to my mid thigh, undergarments that were very much not mine, and loose, coarse leggings, all in a dull, muted grey. I was not given shoes. Whiskey man stooped and heaved me over his shoulder, and the three of us made our way back into the corridors. My mind, though shaken, was still active, and I determined that the labyrinthine quality to the place was to keep us lost and wandering should we choose to try and escape. Gone was my optimism. An important person, I was very obviously not. After a time, we came to another stark room. This one had the look of my doctor's office, a place I had visited when I had taken a fall and hit my head when I was four, only with all the colours drained away. Where my doctor's exam bed had been that institutional green, this one was nondescript beigey grey. My doctors walls had bright, cheerful paintings and diagrams on them; these walls were unadorned and icy white. No jar of bright bonbons was nestled between the tongue depressors and cotton balls here. I was unceremoniously dumped onto that dull bed, and then my handlers retreated to lean against the wall, faces bland and vaguely bored._

_A door that I had not seen opened, opposite the one we had entered by. Another male Beta, scent curiously blocked and face the twin of my handlers' entered, his white coat fluttering at his thighs. He stood before me and silently read from the clipboard that he had carried with him. I longed to ask him a question or a thousand, but I was quickly coming to the conclusion that my insatiable curiosity that so delighted my mother.would only earn me misfortune in this place. The doctor tossed the clipboard on to the desk, donned a pair of gloves, and began his task. The examination started out like the last one I had had; a light shined into my eyes and ears, a finger prodded about the inside of my mouth, hands spidered down my torso, arms and legs... And then. And then he began to strip me, in the same uncaring way the whiskey man had. He shoved my knees apart, pushed me on to my back, and then his latex covered hands were between my legs. He gavey privates a cursory feel, and then I felt gloved, slick fingers probing at my entrance. I was so mortified that I had not even noticed when he had produced the chilled gel. Thankfully it was over within moments. He poked and prodded, felt about inside me for a few scant shame filled minutes, then grunted and wiped both my bottom and his gloves off on another burlapy towel. After he discarded the damp gloves, he snatched up his clipboard and waved a vague hand at my handlers. "Room 306," he muttered, then he exited the way he had come in._

_A trice later, I was dressed and playing at being a sack of flour on whiskey man's shoulder. Again. A small, irritable part of my mind wanted to huff and snap, inform these clods that I was more than capable of walking on my own two feet, thank you very much, but my mother had not raised a fool. Another corridor, another maze, another door. This room was entirely in shades of grey. Four beds arranged in a row were the only furnishings. No chests, desks, chairs. Just these four beds. I was gracelessly toppled on the bed furthest left of the door, a Beta I did not recognise thrust a tray filled with the blandest foods I had ever seen at me, and then I was abandoned. Thus began my eleven years in perdition._


	5. Smile On The Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one gave me some difficulty, but here it is.

The ancient cuckoo clock in the hall announces two a.m., and I have nothing more to give the toilet but bile. He won the auction, of course. Alpha Keyon. He had no competition. I am now betrothed. The very thought makes me heave again. Bile. There will be time before the wedding, at least, but the way I am to spend that time is what started my worship at the porcelain altar in the first place. The Ancestral House Clause he referred to is clear, and absolute. Six months spent at his House's personal training facility. I am to return to perdition, personally attended to by a trainer employed by the family. My hand shakes as I wipe my lips, and I fall back against the counter with a dull thud. It figures, of course; a family as old and wealthy as his cannot have defective products parading about in their colours. I wave my hand weakly at the toilet's sensor, prompting it to flush away the evidence of my fear, my weakness. Brushing my teeth comes next, after trembling my way to my feet with assistance from the counter. After this, I stare into the mirror, noting distantly that it is indeed possible for skin as white as mine to grow paler, after all. All this over a clause that Ashwood-the-elder would not rescind...

My mind screeches to a halt. I know nothing of the man, ignoring the praises the media heaps on Alphas out of contempt. Alpha brothers, twins or not, are almost always nearly identical. Keyon Ashwood did not come up in many search results. It would appear that my future husband is something of a shut-in. His older brother, though... Certain things are required of estate heads, social functions and the like. There will almost certainly be more information, and this may give me some insight into the man I must be wed to. I splash my face with cool water, smiling slightly at the barest hint of colour that has returned to my ashen cheeks. I am careful to shut off the light before opening the door to the hall; our premature celebration had switched to gloomy mourning, and so none of my Beta friends had been in any fit state to return home safely. They are strewn about the lounge room like fallen leaves, and it is a wonder that any of them sleep at all through Sevastianos' snores. Any louder, and the ashes of my father on the mantle may very well rise up and admonish him themselves. The moon is bright in sympathy for my situation, so it is no great trial to thread my way silently through my fallen comrades. still, I do not take a breath until the door of the vid-con room is latched firmly in place behind me. Sevastianos' snores are cut abruptly short as the great, sound proofed portal finds its home.

I find my way to the terminal by feel alone, and have to shut my eyes tightly against the glare of the screen as it clicks on at my approach. The chair is welcoming after nearly an hour spent on my knees on the bathroom floor. My last near-frantic search results are still displayed. I tap the search bar and swipe my thumb back across it to delete Alpha Keyon's name, leaving only his surname, and tap the search button. Rolling my shoulders while waiting helps relieve some of the tension in them. A 'ping' sounds; several hundred results. Busy men, these other Ashwoods. A few of the top articles are on Ashwood Senior, about how he died bravely in the war, about how proud we are to have such strong, honourable Alphas willing to give their lives for us. I ignore these, not because they are not relevant, but because I know the story already. Father was in Ashwood's squadron, and we had sent up prayers of that is that the Ashwood patriarch had blindly marched him into death with foolish tactics and no care for the lives of his men. The fifth link, though, is about one Weston Ashwood, and the thumbnail shows a near doppelganger of my husband-to-be. I prod this one with a fingertip and settle in to read. Alpha Weston in confirmed to be the estates holder and head of house within the first paragraph. Perfect. The article is some long winded account of his recent charitable contributions to various institutions, and I am immediately reintroduced to nausea when several of those institutions are revealed to be Omega training facilities. Alpha facilities tend to be overseen by family groups, and donations they receive have a tendency to be from their own alumni. I very nearly return to the search page when the last paragraph reaches out to grasp at my attention.

A link to his own personal media page. He really is a pompous ass. The page loads, and I follow the trail of breadcrumbs that lead me to his version of an 'About Me' page. Within moments, my body is ice cold. Four Omega wives and one Omega Rut-slave are listed. A Rut-slave. They are almost always from tiny houses with little money or power, like mine. Just like mine. I cannot breathe, and I am distantly thankful that my stomach is already empty. If I am to be a rut-slave, there is nothing left for my future. I will not be given the opportunity to have myself committed to a sanitarium. I will be collared and locked away until rut, then bound and gagged during rut, unable to even speak. I will live in darkness, nothing more than a tool for my Alpha to use at his discretion. It will be the death of my spirit, and my mind. The sparrows in my head are back, and the floor rushes up to meet me.

 

_Training facilities were never designed for the comfort of those being trained. The room I had been left in had four beds, yes, but there were seven of us assigned to it. My six room mates were scentless, silent, and quite possibly the meekest people I had ever encountered. The lot of them slunk quietly into the room with their heads down, clutching at each other's hands as though letting go of one another would cause them all to drown. Not once did they look up, nor did any of them make a single sound. My tasteless meal sat like lead in my stomach, but still it twisted and churned when I saw these six pitiful souls curl up into one another on a single bed, drawing warmth and comfort from each other like abandoned kittens. It is that image that would haunt my sleep for many years to come, even after I left that foul place._

_Our schedules were completely regulated, but there were no windows or clocks anywhere within the entire facility. Our whole lives were lived within drab grey and white rooms, lead about bored, near silent Betas. They woke us up every morning with pounding on the doors and shouts to get to our shower rooms, where we were hosed off in much the same way I had been upon first arriving, with too-cold water and scent blocking soaps. Bland, tasteless breakfasts followed, and then we were herded into our first classes of the day, most of us still yawning widely and blinking sleep out of our eyes. Each classroom was indistinguishable from one another. Our morning lessons were always focused around some petty household skill, such as the correct way to poach an egg, or how to get your Alpha's red wine out of his trousers. Occasionally, we were treated to lessons on bookkeeping and household finance, in case out Alpha did not want to hire an accountant. Lunch was served after this, though it was much the same as every other meal we were given in that place. Our after lunch lessons revolved around child rearing, though we were all mere children ourselves. At seven years old I could change a diaper in my sleep, and could recognise eleven infant illnesses by the skin tone of the babe alone. The lessons were cyclical, restarting again every first of December, exactly the same. The only change occurred when we turned ten. That year, instead of having heavily regulated free time devoted to knitting or poetry after dinner, we were instead taken to new lessons. These lessons consisted of the most absolutely basic biology classes the world had ever seen, liberally sprinkled with a mad sort of sex-ed. When talking to my Beta friends later in life, I would come to appreciate just how strange an Omega's education really is. Betas learn cycle tracking for pregnancy prevention, anatomy, use of prophylactics, and are given dire warnings about the consequences of unsafe encounters, peer pressure, and sexually transmitted disease. Omegas, on the other hand, learn cycle tracking for fertility, even though we are a tad obvious about it with our Heats, anatomy, use of Heat-inducers, and are given dire warnings about failing to fall pregnant, failing to appeal to our Alphas, and the consequences of failing to present yourself immediately upon your Alpha's whims. We, at the age of ten, began learning what positions to gently suggest to increase the chances of conception, and how to treat rug-burn should his Rut have him too eager to bother with the bed. These lessons fell neatly within the already-torturous cycle, and continuously repeated at the beginning of each year. It certainly said something about the public opinion on Omega intelligence, of the accepted method for teaching us basic skills required years and years of endless repetition._

_Mixed within the mind-numbing schedule was an insidious sort of conditioning used to train our everyday behaviours and mannerisms alongside our household duties. Each Beta was equipped with a bamboo lash in one hand, and a bag of sweets in the other. Get caught displaying unto mega habits like fidgeting or looking someone in the eye, and you were lashed. Speak out of turn, and you were lashed. Display more curiosity than was fashionable, and you were lashed. Alternatively, being particularly quick to obey, or having your bed made before wake up call, or manage to go the entire day with downcast eyes and utter silence, and the reward was almost excessive. They would cuddle us and stroke our cheeks, smile and kiss our noses or foreheads, then gift us with a sweet. Needless to say, I was smart enough to avoid much punishment, but I chafed under these restrictions just enough that I did not earn too many sweets, either. I came quickly to distrusting everyone, including my fellow Omegas. I was the only male at the facility, and the others were not pleased by this. Purely for my rarity, I was frequently singled out by the Betas as an example of 'the miracle of life and birth, that a male be so favoured by nature that he is given the gift of future motherhood.' People like to think that all Omegas are meek, sweet little creatures, incapable of dislike or any kind of competition, but this is not so. the girls hated the attention given me as much as I myself did, and though we were all conditioned against outright sabotage, they certainly did everything in their power to trip me into earning the lash._

_The most insidious tactic was employed by the Betas, however. Once a year, they would come to our rooms later than usual to tell us it was a free day. They would encourage us to be ourselves, don't worry about any silly Omega commandments today! Go on, have some fun! The next day, we would be pulled naked from our beds earlier than normal, herded into a large, bare room, and be given three lashes for every single infraction we had committed the day before. I only fell for it once, though others would take at least a few years to finally learn. For each of my forty two lashes, my ability to trust in anyone other than my mother was sharply ripped from my back._


	6. Captive Audience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suspicions and strange gifts; homecoming.

Mother's cool fingers sweeping my forehead bring me back to life. This is something of a theme for me now; her hands, like mine, are always cool, and are always comforting to me. It is a trait of our house. We are represented by the ice serpent, after all. She looks worried again, muddy yellow hints in her eyes and creases on her brow. It takes me a groggy moment to realise I am not in my bed, before the events of the night before come sailing back to me in a rush of blurred colours and bile. Instantly I am clutching at her arms and gasping.

"I can't, mama, I can't... Slave... Mama!" I choke out in a garbled rush, shaking and unable to breathe. Her arms snake around me and she pulls me close.

"I know, baby, I know. I was afraid of this, too. But there is something for you, brought by a courier this morning. This gives me some small hope..." I pull my tear-damp face from her shoulder and stare at her in jade confusion. She responds with a one-shouldered shrug, then she disentangles herself from me. I watch her stand so gracefully, her hands patting lightly down her skirts to smooth them, and then I take her offered hand and am helped to my own feet. I am unsteady again, and this irritates me. I have not been so weak and wobbly since I was a child. She leads me to the bathroom and kisses my cheek, murmuring, 

"Take a shower, love. You reek of booze and panic." At this, I snort, but I begin unbraiding my hair nonetheless. I cannot help but start trying to imagine what sort of parcel could make my mother start to question these Alphas' motives while I turn on the water and absently run my fingers through the waist length white blond mess.

 

After I have dressed myself in fresh trousers and a shirt, I wander barefoot into the kitchen, my fingers still lost in my hair. Every morning, I rub my hair with these sweet smelling oils to keep away the tangles, and so the motions are automatic now. Mother sits at the kitchen island with a cup of tea between her hands; the parcel and a note lay before her. Her warm smile beckons me over, as does a second cup of tea she holds out to me. Settling in beside her, I see that the note is from our guests. Thank you, condolences, call us any time, we had life and duties to attend to. Have a good day. The handwriting is Belinda's, and I wrinkle my nose and smile. She has such a sweet nature, it is a wonder that she is not an Omega. Now, the parcel. It has the private courier's stamps upon it, as well as the seal of the Lion-Maned Dragon above the address. Ashwood's house symbol. I have to fight the urge to sweep the whole thing into the trash. So, Alpha Keyon has sent me a gift, or perhaps even a collar, alongside his excessive bid. My curiosity eventually wins out over my disdain, however, and I find myself tugging at the tape.

 

Within the cardboard, nestled in a mess of soft tissue paper, is a black velvet, rectangular box. It is not the type of box one would send a collar in. I cock an eyebrow at mother, and she shrugs again.

"What Alpha sends a slave he has never met a gift? For that matter, what Alpha sends a slave a gift at all?" She points out to me.

"Well, that is true..." I squint at the box, as though trying to see inside it without opening. I hear mother huff an impatient sigh, and she reaches out to grab it and place it on the counter before me. I do not even have time to take a breath before she flicks the tiny latch and opens the little case. Suddenly, we are mirror images of one another. We both slowly lower our hands to fold in our laps as our eyes widen in shock, bright white and blinding.

 

It is a necklace. Three rubies, two small and one very large, are set in diamond encrusted gold filigree, and the chain is heavy. Gold and red, his house colours, with the clear crystal of my house sit before me, sparkling opulence in am almost obscene display of wealth. It is beautiful. It is also exactly the type of jewellery that I cannot possibly hope to pull off. I am like my mother, and very Omega in appearance. 'Delicate,' as they say. My skin is sheet white at the best of times, my eyes a watered grey, and my hair is so light a blond as to be nearly white. I am a study in monochromatics. Something so saturated in colour would only serve to wash me out even further. He saw my dossier photo and we had a vid-con with him. He knows this. This necklace is no gift. It is a symbol of ownership.

 

I must have said as much out loud, because mother snorts a laugh beside me.

"Of course it is, love. But... It could also mean that you are not to be a slave. A trinket like this is meant to be paraded about on the throat of a wife, not locked in a cupboard with a slave."

"Mother, he isn't stupid. He must know we looked both him and his brother up. He must know that we are panicking about slavery." I worry slightly at my lower lip and my eyes find hers.

"So he sends this to put my mind at ease, so I don't purposely damage myself or try to find some way of annulling the contract. Then, after I have strode peacefully into the marriage, he will collar me, take back the gift, and bam. A slave who came willingly, and without undue fuss." Her lips have been getting thinner and tighter throughout my suspicions, and now she is looking pinched and pained.

"My optimism would have you cheerfully slit your own throat for the lion..." She reaches for me, burying her face against my neck.

"What do we do, my Rhys?" I turn my head to nuzzle at her hair, my stomach twisting at the scent of her fear and sadness.

"I do not think there is anything we can do, mother. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and go in with an alert mind and eyes wide open, I suppose." She tries to hide it, but I feel her sob.

 

_We were not allowed to go home until training was complete. No exceptions. We had no visitors, and we were only permitted a single letter from home, heavily censored, at Christmas. No gifts, no news that was not directly related to our families, no photos. For trainees, the outside world had ceased to turn. We never even saw the sun. 'Free' time was held within small activity rooms, and the only time we were allowed to run around was during our thrice weekly gym classes. Even these only had our future Alphas in mind, though. Sedate yoga poses for flexibility, a watered down version of pilates for tone, and a half hour of running to keep us slim. At age ten we all stopped wearing trousers and are put in Omega gowns. At eleven we begin learning hair art. At twelve, cosmetics, and at thirteen we are schooled in the finer points of fashion. This necklace paired with that gown, your hair so, your makeup thus. It was here that I found myself at a disadvantage. House Idle has a long history of being known for producing snowy children, as does my mother's birth house, House Bainum. Most cosmetics only served to make me look like a startled, ugly doll. The Betas were schooled to remain stoic in any situation, but even I could see their frustration at this. I could only wear gowns of the palest pastels, and of our practice jewellery, only the very nearly colourless gems would work on me. I took to practising these things by myself, because the other Omegas would always dress me in deep scarlets and blues, paint me like a whore, and laugh._

 

_I kept entirely to myself while confined to that place. In the later years, when I no longer needed to remind myself so frequently to keep my snide comments and sarcastic responses to myself, I earned a fair amount of sweets for my silence. Mother's words, her warnings and my promises, these were the last echoes in my head before sleep took me, and the very first muddled mental mutterings upon waking. I never let them take my fire, never let them loosen my firm grip on who I was; I merely buried it all deep under a mask of complacency. The Betas must have suspected, though, because after the tenth year-cycle of lessons, my name was not called. I was not whisked away with the other lucky ones, not sent home. I was awoken at the usual time the next morning, herded into the classrooms with the others not yet deemed 'acceptable,' and the cycle began anew. For the first few days, I was sullen and withdrawn. My hand no longer rose to answer questions, and my gaze rarely left the table before me to glance at the thoroughly memorised diagrams and notes. My yoga poses were halfhearted at best. I could not imagine where my mistake had been. Where I had slipped._

 

_Then, during lessons on the fifth day, I chanced to raise my eyes at just the right moment, and happened to see two of the Betas looking my way. Their heads were bent together and they were whispering, and they both had the faintest of smiles on their faces. I quickly dropped my eyes, but my mind was whirring so fast that it was a wonder no one else heard it. Obedience in all things, silence unless spoken to, pleasing for your Alpha, and unobtrusiveness were commandments of the Omega. My despondence, my lack of participation, had made the Betas smile... Before, I had been eager to answer questions, hoping to show them how very ready I was to be sent home. It would seem, though, that in doing so I had been drawing too much attention to myself. Unobtrusiveness. And so, for the rest of the cycle I remained even more silent, and very nearly forgot what the others even looked like in my determination to keep my eyes demurely lowered. At the end of the cycle, my guesses were proven correct. I was called, and taken outside for the first time in eleven years. The air was incredible, so crisp with the smell of autumn. I nearly wept at the scent. Before me was a silver van and my little black bag, unopened after all this time. I held in my smile with some difficulty, scooped the bag up, and climbed in the van._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://tinypic.com/r/14lujhi/8  
> The necklace, in case anyone is interested.


	7. Pawns on the Board

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humor and history; home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a deal with my grandfather and got a tablet with a keyboard out of it, so enjoy an extra long chapter that I didn't type out on my phone!

"I look ridiculous." Mother slides another pin into my hair and tuts. 

"You look lovely, my Rhys." She pats my shoulder and smiles at me in the mirror. I raise my eyebrow and stand, gesturing dramatically. 

"Oh yes, mother, I look fantastic. My chest really fills this gown out nicely." She laughs, and settles her hands on my tiny waist. 

"That may be, but look at these delightful hips!" I can see the mirth twinkling in her eyes, though I know she is being serious. We have always teased each other so; she with her slim hips and ample bosom, and I, her opposite. I have to fight to keep the dramatic pout on my face. 

"Mother, I have a crotch bulge." Peals of laughter ring out in my dressing room, and I too break out in giggles with her. Mama shakes her head, turning to dig in the drawers of my dresser.

 "Perhaps different undergarments will help. Silk shows so much..." 

"Mama, a boy in a dress is a boy in a dress, no matter the fancy underwear you stuff him in to."The underwear in question thwumps harmlessly against my coif, more of her giggles filling the air. 

"Oh, don't be difficult, you. We need to impress the Mentor with your lovely wifely qualities." She rucks my skirts up around my waists, then plants her eyes firmly on the ceiling. I tug, and pull, and squirm until the new underpants sit snug on my body. Mother's gaze still rests on the ceiling while I proceed to dig around and adjust myself, until finally I feel it is as good as it is ever going to get, and touch her shoulder to let her know it is safe to look. We then begin the work of settling two thin layers of mint green silk back into rights, smoothing down seafoam wrinkles into perfection. 

"There we are. Smooth as a woman, albeit a rather flat one." Mama chuckles and rests her chin on my shoulder, smiling once again in the mirror. My gown has a gentle scoop neck, showing off my collar bones and a necklace of pale amethyst. Fitted lace sleeves hug my arms to just above my wrists, and the form hugging silk flares gently at the knees to just barely touch the floor. I imagine it would look incredible on someone more suited to it. To me, I look like a farce. My face, though subtly and artfully powdered by my mother's expert hands, holds too many angles to be considered beautiful, yet is too soft to be called handsome. The ethereal hairstyle of upswept curls held in place with gem-studded pins only highlights this, in my mind. Flat chest, hidden bulge, too-large biceps... A male Omega is trapped between two worlds, unable to fully assume the guise of one or the other. Nothing more than a boy who got into his mothers' closet and made a play at being pretty. 

A pair of stockings bounces against my shoulder, breaking me out of my reverie. 

"Princess Space Cadet... Earth to Princess Space Cadet..." My mother is leaning against my wardrobe, one eyebrow arched and a slightly sardonic grin stretching the corners of her mouth."I managed to get you some flats to go with that gown. I won't have you ruining my hard work on your hair by tumbling headlong down the stairs thanks to a pair of heels." She makes her way to the door, pausing to glance at me over her shoulder. I am torn between the urge to follow her, and the urge to curl up in the corner for a private moment of solitude and grief. My previous jovial mood is gone replaced by wisteria coloured maudlin sadness. Mother takes the choice right out of my hands.

 "Do not fall away from me into mourning just yet. It is only a visit from the Mentor. We have time to be ourselves, yet." Her hand stretches out to me, and her wisdom is, as always, sound. I take her hand with my left, hitch my gown up with my right, and follow her across the hall. Once inside her bright and airy room, she settles me on to the bench at the foot of her bed, then turns to root around in her closet. 

"I know you want to wallow, but your dear mother is selfish. I want my hellion eldest son with me for a while longer. " She sniffs, and her voice is just a touch thicker when she speaks again

."This is not what I intended for you." I watch her sit back on her heels, champagne coloured gown pooling elegantly around her, two stacked shoe boxes settled on the floor to her right.

 "This was the furthest thing from my mind when I changed our course. I just wanted something more for you, more than being naught more than an ornament, naught more than an empty-headed plaything. But... I suppose I must have forgotten that no matter what I do, some Alpha will always be waiting to snap you back into line... I am so sorry, my boy. My Rhys."Her tiny shoulders shake, and she hangs her elaborately braided head. I very nearly tear my gown in my haste to reach her side, my nose pressing against the nape of her neck.

 "No, mama, no... Shhh." She turns to sit on her hip, now facing me. 

"Yes, little one, yes! Do you not see? If I had not overstepped, if I had just kept to the legal system, you would not be so unhappy at this marriage. You would know nothing else, and-"

"And I would be brainless, feeble, and stupid. Ignorance may be bliss, but we both know it suits me ill. Besides, mama, who would have kept you proper company all these years, and brought in stories from the restaurant, and cigarettes, if I had been naught more than a witless wonder? You'd have gone mad long ago without Rhys-as-you-know-him to keep you sane. Admit it." This earns me a tiny chuckle. Then mama tilts her head up and wipes delicately at the tears in her eyes, somehow managing to leave her makeup utterly intact. I frown in envy, and inform her that she will be teaching me that trick. Another chuckle is forthcoming, this one a little stronger. Then she turns to the shoeboxes.  


"I am still slightly optimistic that your husband to be is just a sentimental fool, and will not be enslaving you. The top box contains shoes for today." Mama gestures, and so I pull the box to me and remove the lid. I am greeted by a simple yet elegant pair of mint green flats, the same shade as my gown. I am about to thank her when she continues.

"The second box belonged to your great-grandfather. I suppose we never really brought up the fact that he too was a male Omega. Those were his wedding shoes. Yours now, if you like." Her cheeks have pinked slightly. I grab the box and carefully set it atop the other in my lap. It is soft and somewhat yellowed with age. I gently tug the top off, and within is a pair of white lace almond toed medium height heels. A satin ribbon runs along the top of the foot, just below the ankle, tied in a dainty bow. They are... absolutely gorgeous. 

"My grandfather told me he chose these because they were easy to walk in. He was much like you, my Rhys." Her eyes shine with tears once more. Twenty minutes later, we both must re-apply our makeup. 

  
_My return home was nowhere near as triumphant as I had envisioned it. Father was the one to greet me at the door, which was quite possibly the worst way to start any sort of home coming, ever. Allow me to explain. Before training, my memories of my father, who was my mother's second husband, were distant at best. He wouldn't die for several more years, but still he hung about the house like some ill-willed spectre. Father enlisted shortly before his wedding to my mother, and the morning after their wedding night, he shipped out. He was always deployed for at least 15 months at a time, and never home for more than six. Mother once told me that she did not become pregnant with me until his third return home. This was quite indicative of his regard for his family. I remembered him as always being quiet, angry, and strict. When he was home, lessons with mother ceased, and instead we would play a game: Silent and invisible. Losing the game meant many different things to me. Occasionally, he would merely growl and warn me that children should never be heard. I think he also rather suspected that I was to be an Omega, because he would also occasionally recite some tenant of the Omega commandments. But sometimes, when I lost the game in some spectacular way, such as the time I accidentally bumped a crystal decanter of his favourite amber liquor to the floor... The bruises and raised reddened marks covered my backside from my waist to my knees. After he had left the house to buy a replacement, mama had snuck into my room with cold cloths soaked in vinegar to help reduce the bruising. They stung, but after a while they seemed to help. Those fingers, forever chilled like mine brushing along my forehead, helped sooth some of my mental anguish, as well. I vowed to play the game much better after that._

_Father's stern face was understandably not the first thing I had wanted to see upon arriving home. Such was my lot in life though, I suppose. The Betas led me to my own door, one carrying my bag and another with his hand clamped around my elbow, as if I had the slightest inclination to try and escape. Right up until he saw the glare my father was leveling at him, that is. It could have frozen an open flame. The man dropped my arm as though it had grown spikes, and even went so far as to put another step's worth of space between us. I dropped my eyes to the ground again before father was finished glaring, for I remembered his temper and his ideas of what an Omega should be quite well. Nearly every commandment the facility had drilled into my head those eleven years had also been growled at me by my father at some point, before I had presented. I approached him with clasped hands, lowered eyes, and dainty steps to stand before him in silence; picture perfect Omega. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my bag be passed from Beta to Father. Then, after a tense moment of silence, he grunted and turned to enter the house. I followed at his heels, the rumble of the silver van's retreat behind me one of the happiest sounds I had ever heard._  


_Once I had closed the front door behind me, I turned to face father again, and I heard him sigh. It was the weary sigh of a put-upon man. My bag was dropped to the floor of the entry way, and then, father surprised me. He lightly clapped his large hand on my bony shoulder, and said, "Welcome home, kid," in that battle-roughened gravelly voice of his. I was shocked into silence. I suppose he must have taken this well, because he gave my shoulder a light squeeze, told me that I was dismissed, and turned towards his study without another word. I waited until I heard his door close, and then I truly relaxed. A small smile graced my lips as I bent to grab that neglected little suitcase, and then I made my way up the stairs. The house looked largely unchanged. One of my Christmas letters, I think I had been seven years old, said that mother gave birth to twin boys, and I saw their faces for the first time in the family photos that lined the wall of the stairwell. I learned lather that they had both presented Alpha, and had gone for training the year before I returned home. I remember being glad that mother had been blessed with both company and a distraction from her loneliness; father was no good for either role. My room was at the end of the upstairs hallway, or so I thought. When I opened the door, though, jade puzzlement creased my forehead. My little cream coloured platform bed with the drawers in its sides was gone, as were the matching dresser and toy box. Instead, this room contained a set of crimson bunk beds, a pair of royal blue dressers, and a set of godawful bright yellow toy boxes. The brightest of primary colours covered the room floor to ceiling, and the whole thing actually gave me a bit of a headache. There were even masses of toys spilling out of the cracked open closet, as though the two boxes did not have the capacity to hold them all._

_"We had to put the boys down here after they turned two. The little devils were far louder than my quiet little Rhys had prepared me for." I whirled around in surprised joy, sunshine yellow and blindingly bright, to see my beautiful mother, her warm smile bathing the entire hall, the entire world, in its honeyed glow._

_"Mama!" I tried not to shout in case father heard, but it was a close thing. I flung my arms around her, eyes misting over, and only then was I truly home._

_My room had been moved to just across the hall from my parents'. There was a tiny bathroom separating my room from the boys, and for this I was very grateful. After eleven ears surrounded by silent Omegas and soft-spoken Betas, I was not sure I could handle anything louder than my own breathing any more. Mother told me in a conspiratory tone that she had used the move as an opportunity to update my furnishings for me. All my old toys had been packed into their chest in the bottom of my closet. My bed was larger, and no longer had drawers on its sides. Instead, my dresser was beside a new vanity, and on the other side of this vanity was a large freestanding wardrobe. All these pieces had been painted a creamy, warm grey. Apparently, several months before I had been truly sent home, the facility had updated my mother on my new measurements, and she had never passed up an opportunity to shop. Gown after lovely gown hung in the wardrobe, with barely a fingers-width of space left to spare. Mother was much smarter than the Betas and had years worth of experience in dressing our skin tone; every imaginable pastel colour winked out at me. Over the years we would come to learn that virtually every conceivable shade of grey looked excellent on me as well, thanks to my eyes, and that black suited me as well, though it had me looking a touch fearsome; these gowns, though, were like feeling the sun on your skin after spending years in a cave. With muted giggles, she and I immediately fell into an hours-long game of dress up, taking the time to simply enjoy one another's company. After all, it kept us both well within the rules of our other game as well: Neither of us saw father until dinner time._

_Dinner was silent as ever, but after the facility's poor excuse for food, my mother's home cooking had me floating in heaven. She and I communicated silently with glances and facial cues across the table, while father sat at the head and never once lost his focus on his plate. Well, he did look up one time, and one time only. A warning glare at the beginning of the meal informed me that I needed to tone back my enthusiasm for the real food before me, as I was not acting as an Omega should at the dinner table. He stood when his food was finished; obediently, mother and I followed suit. Without a word, he headed immediately back into his study. We waited as normal for the door to close, and then mother let out a tiny giggle. Instantly, the mood changed completely to one of relaxed contentment. the rest of our dinners were nibbled at between stories and gossip. Quietly, though. She informed me that father was to ship out again in another month, and then we would be free to be normal again. We talked and laughed our way through the dishes together, and a game of chess, and then a game of checkers, for she always claimed I had cheated to win the game of chess. Always. By the time my head finally found my pillow that night, I was slowly beginning to remember what happiness was. One last content sigh, and my soft, downy bed whisked me away to sleep. Real, solid, warm, happy sleep._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhys Hair: http://hairstylesites.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/wedding-hairstyles-for-long-hair-updo.jpg  
> Aneyra Hair: http://fashionhoster.com/wp-content/uploads/Easy-And-Stylish-Updos-For-Long-Hair-0016.jpg  
> Rhys Dress(Just... pretend it's mint green, okay?): http://img.alibaba.com/img/pb/821/318/905/905318821_984.jpg  
> Great Grandfather's Shoes: http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LezbtOB-o9Y/Tg0_e-JnosI/AAAAAAAABRI/m7n7uEiVYyA/s1600/B003B3NT4M_01__SS1500_SCRMZZZZZZ_.jpg


	8. Well met, I suppose.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meetings, meetings, meetings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My god, what an awful delay I've subjected you all to. I'm so very sorry. Work, life, house maintenance, as well as being currently in the process of switching careers are all to blame. Nothing quite like fighting for three weeks to have your air conditioning fixed. In the middle of summer. In a desert. Anyway, here's 3k+ words and a vow that I'll not be so late again. Thanks as always to our lovely Beta, and thanks as always to our lovely readers. <3

I can hear my brothers talking in the hall, but I cannot make out the words. This bathroom is my safe haven, for the moment. I have managed to stave off a panic attack by methodically checking over every inch of my cosmetics, seeing to every pin in my hair, and popping my Heat suppressant pill. Checklists are calming.

The doorbell rings, and my brothers are abruptly silent. I take one more deep, full breath, and then I unlock the door and step into the hall. Both boys immediately flank me, Alpha instincts kicking into high gear now that their oddball Omega brother finally looks the part. On any other day I would be telling them to piss off. As the three of us descend the stairs, Mother opens the door and graciously greets our guest. Alpha Alden Ordiway actually respectfully bows to her before stepping through the doorway. His tawny suit is finely cut, with a forest green handkerchief folded with absolute precision tucked in his pocket. He is orderly and tidy in a way that makes me nervous.

The Mentoring system was implemented by the Omega Protection Society as a way to ensure that young Alphas treated their Omegas appropriately, being neither too lenient nor too rough. An Alpha's Mentor lives with his protégé until he reaches the age of thirty, and so the young ones often take more after their Mentor than their own fathers. In the case of wealthy houses, the patriarch chooses the Mentor for their Alpha children, and that Mentor will essentially raise them after they return from training. In the case of a family like ours, with little wealth to speak of, the Society will assign one to the boys when they place their first bid. My future husband's Mentor seems rather uptight. I fear that Alpha Keyon will be the same. I suppress a small shiver when Alpha Ordiway's eyes fall on me.Just as in the vid-con, they reveal nothing.

"Young Omega Rhys. The images we have seen of you do not do you justice.Your House is highly undervalued if the beauty before me is to be expected from it." His flattery is spoken with a tiny smile, one that does nothing to warm his eyes. I take the last two steps down to join them in the entry way and incline my head in thanks, earrings tinkling softly. His smile remains, but his brow creases ever so slightly.

"Did you not receive Keyon's gift?" For the briefest moment, my mind is swamped by iridescent sparkling panic, but my incredible Mother saves the day, as always.

"I am afraid that my little one, pale as he is, does not yet own a gown that would do anything but dampen the beauty of the gift. We mean no insult; it is truly a magnificent piece." Her grace is nearly uncanny. She uses this moment to gesture toward the sitting room, that serene, unreadable smile fixed carefully on her face.

"Ah, of course. I see." Rather than heed mother's indications, Alpha Ordiway steps well within my personal space, and then he grasps my chin in his hand. Poppy red alarm arcs through me, and both my brothers bristle with hostility, but he pays them no heed. Instead, he turns my face this way and that, examining me in a way that makes me feel more like a breeding mare than a human being. I am so perplexed by his actions that I forget entirely to lower my eyes.

"Hmm. Silvery eyes, white blond hair, and snowy skin. Perhaps gold and ruby was not the best choice. I am afraid that neither myself nor Keyon would ever be considered paragons of fashion." His smile turns somewhat rueful, and he releases my chin with a small chuckle. It is now, finally, that he turns to the sitting room, nodding graciously at my mother to lead the way. Moren touches my elbow lightly, shaking me out of my deer-in-the-headlights moment, and leans in close to whisper, "Is he for real?" This inspires a weak giggle from me, which is quickly stifled by a warning glare from Mother, just out of our guest's line of vision.

Alpha Ordiway is seated in my father's chair, a high backed, looming leather monstrosity. Mother offers him refreshments, ever the perfect hostess, which he accepts with equal decorum. My impromptu bodyguards herds me to the couch, perching on either side of me like gargoyles, just shy of being considered aggressive. Though they have a couple of inches height on Alpha Ordiway, he has them outclassed in both refinement, and muscle mass. He is monolithic, utterly unperturbed by their display. Somehow, even the way he sips at the tea Mother has provided him is clearly dismissive of the twins' efforts.

"Well now, this tea is lovely, as is your home. Tell me, do you have much difficulty without a fully legal Alpha around?" Straight to the point, nearly inappropriate with how blunt he is. Mother's eyes widen a fraction.

"We have, of course, managed to make do with what we have..."

"By claiming Beta, yes. The freedoms afforded you must have been eye-opening." His gaze lands on me once more, sharp and piercing.

"I- Yes. I'm afraid I do not do well in a cage." My tone is not quite terse, but I dance the edge of impropriety. If he wishes to be blunt and honest, then we shall be so. I am slightly relieved, as I am not one for playing around with words. On the other side of the Alpha, Mother has closed her eyes. He smiles again, this one more calculating.

"Good. You understand. I am not here to play games, to trap you with honeyed words and thinly veiled lies. The facts are thus: You have been purchased not because you are uncommonly lovely, though you are, and not for exceptional breeding, though your house, as I said, is clearly undervalued in that area. You have been the subject of media ridicule for acting outside of the Omega tenants, and for forsaking your training in the most spectacular way imaginable. That is why Keyon wanted you. As was stated during the bidding, Keyon is exceptional. He is strong willed, stubborn, highly intelligent, and uncommonly kind. His father had referred to him as soft, in fact. Together, he and I have come to the conclusion that a normal Omega, one who adheres to training, one who is essentially a pose-able bed ornament, would be no better a match for him than would a garden topiary. And a match is what he seeks. Someone to challenge him, someone with a will and personality of their own."

Alpha Ordiway sets his tea down on the coffee table with the softest clinking of fine china and

"What Keyon truly needs is a Beta, but his house forbids it. Purity of lineage and all that." He waves a hand dismissively.

"You, my dear, are the next best thing. An Omega that has lived as a Beta, defying all things expected of you, an experience that makes you uniquely suited to being my protege's mate! This is why he was so eager to have you. He has been following every scrap of your story that he could get his hands on since your unfortunate discovery. From the moment he first heard of you, he has wanted you."

I am startled. This seems to be my new favourite state of mind. It is only because I have lost feeling in much of my face that my mask of calm remains in place and I have not begun stammering like a fool. It is, as always, Mother who has the wits to respond in my place. Everyone seems to forget that while Omegas are normally such gentle creatures, mothers across all species are vicious in the defence of their young.

"This all sounds wonderful, but I must take a moment to educate you, sir Alpha. Omegas are trained from a very young age to treat all promises of freedom as trickery. I am going to make this very clear, once and only once: My son is precious to me, and I have fought very hard to raise him as I have. I cannot change that he must go to you and your protege now, but know this. If I do not hear from him more than once a month, or catch any wind that he is being mistreated in any way, believe me when I say I will take whatever steps I must to make yours and Keyon's lives utter hell."

Mother's face is contorted in a very Alpha-like snarl. I catch three different scents of alarm in the sitting room, barely detected atop her own scent of near-rage. With my nose being dulled by Heat suppressants, it is only now that I catch Ordiway's scent; roasted almonds. Odd, the little things you notice when your world is consumed in swirling emotion.Par for the course, however, Ordiway's response is exactly the opposite that we expected. The Alpha slips off his chair to kneel before my mother,supplication in his every line. It is unheard of, an Alpha like this... but then again, nothing about him follows the norm.

"I will personally kidnap your son and return him to you should Keyon deviate from his normal behaviour, but I cannot stress enough, Madam Omega, that he is absolutely not your average Alpha. Your son will never, ever be harmed or mistreated in any way. I give you my sworn word." Perhaps it is his vulnerable posture, or I just simply do not have any more room for surprise in my head, but I finally find control over my body once more. In a rustle of silk and a tinkle of jewels, I stand behind Ordiway.

"My mother is my life. If you lie to her, you risk my wrath. In a few short months, Alpha, I will know where you sleep."

Maddeningly, the man laughs, and rises to face me. His smile finally reaches his eyes. "Keyon chose well," he says simply, reaching out to cup my cheek fondly. Then, he returns to his chair, cool and unruffled as ever.

"We should discuss those few months before I take my leave." I cross the short distance before me and settle beside my mother, intertwining my hand in hers. They try to hide it, but I can see the twins fighting their smiles.

"Six months with a trainer seems to be in direct violation of your eloquent promises, sir Alpha." I settle a hard look in his direction, even though I know there is nothing to be done about the House clause. His response may be informative, though. He grimaces.

"Yes, I do understand your position on the matter. However, our hands are tied. I have it on good authority, though, that this particular trainer is well aware of the natures of both the Ashwood boys, and is well versed in their differences." He pauses, then looks at me with a pained expression.

"Another thing I wished to address, and now is as good a time as any. Omega Rhys, Keyon is not the kind of man to abide by a rut-slave. They are not permitted in his house. Not even the slaves of guests, and they never will be. Please do not fear that this is your fate." Hmm. I am still suspicious. Anyone in my position would be a fool to take any of this Alpha's words at face value, and my training has made it so that I cannot help it. But if any of this is true... then perhaps I may survive this marriage after all. I maintain my silence, though. I would rather go in with all my armour intact than lower my defences and be betrayed.. Alpha Ordiway seems to understand this. We lock eyes, and then he nods curtly and stands.

"I thank your family for the tea, and for all of you in allowing me this audience. I had hoped that we would be able to reach an accord. Omega Rhys, you are beautiful, smart, strong, and brave. A fearsome foe. I understand that you are unaccustomed to Alphas being anything more than brutes-" At this, both twins make rather loud noises of protest. Ordiway chuckles again.

"Other Alphas, I mean. I cannot fault you for not blindly trusting everything I have said. If you did, I would honestly worry, for that is not what Keyon paid for. I promise you, though, that in time, Keyon and I will prove it to you. I only ask that we be given the chance to do so." With that, he bows to my mother and I, then turns and bows to my brothers. Mother begins to rise from the couch, but Ordiway gently gestures her down.

"Please, my lady. I am sure you have much to discuss, and I have no qualms about showing myself out." He looks at me once more, rather kindly, and then turns and leaves. Mother falls back against the couch with a muffled thump. I lit a cigarette.

"Well."

 

_I hadn't been home more than a few days when Father was redeployed. I was grateful for that, because my Heat was fast approaching and I knew from my education that it would only make him moody. Being his child meant that rather than my pheromones causing him arousal, he would only be temperamental, and I had no desire for Mother to associate my return home with father flying into nearly unprovoked rages. Heats in the facility had been torture. We were locked into these tiny little rooms with nothing more than hard cots, thin pillows, and rough blankets. There were flaps on the doors for the Betas to slide food and water in to us at regular intervals. We had to endure our immense cravings in solitude. It felt like dying of thirst, and knowing that water is just on the other side of the door, but you will never be able to pick the lock. Your skin is tight and hot, like a sunburn, and you are desperate for touch, but your own is painful. I had prepared my bedroom in the days leading up to my Heat; bottles of water, towels for the slick, and the softest blankets I could find around the house, as my skin would scream in agony at anything too rough. It was the day before I calculated it would hit that Mother caught the subtle change in my scent, though, and her plan was altogether different from mine._

  
_"I'll not have you endure this alone, my little one. You are my son, my eldest and most precious." She promptly began to add to my preparations; a bowl of water and cloths to lay on my forehead, a fan to cool me, and best of all, herself. she told me in no uncertain terms that she would be spending those five days with me, manning the cool cloths and holding me. I nearly wept at this news. They always say that the first is the hardest, but in my case it had thus far been the easiest by a wide margin. She even offered, much to my mortification, to purchase me some 'toys,' imitation knots and the like. They had shown us these at the facility, to illustrate what our Alphas would be like, and the thought of taking any knot at all left me cold and blue with horror. When asked later in life by Betas who had never seen them what a knot looked like, the only words that ever came to mind were 'huge' and 'frightening.' I could not imagine my body ever accommodating such a thing, and I said as much to Mother while we were sitting in my room, waiting for the Heat to strike. She laughed, bright and tinkly._

_"I forgot how little of use they actually teach us during training. Our bodies change during Heats, little one. quite a bit, in fact. Our muscles loosen and stretch, the slick eases the way, and Alpha pheromones only increase these effects. Those pheromones take action on you even when you are not in Heat, love. Remember, as Omegas, our bodies want nothing more than to be pregnant, and they will certainly not let a little fear or pain get in the way of that." I puzzled over this for a while, but it was not long before all coherent thought was lost in the crashing waves of Heat. Mother sat on my floor with her back against my bed, a pillow in her lap to cradle my head. I pressed my face in to her stomach in confused agony while she stroked my hair and my shoulders, and together, we made it the easiest I had ever experienced._

_While my mother cooked a hearty meal to break our five day diet of soup and bread, I mulled things over in the shower. It was then that I decided I did not want to be an Omega. I did not want to have my body subject to an Alpha's whims, I did not want to have my every thought dictated by someone else. I longed for freedom. I was angry. My body still ached, my skin was still sensitive and tacky with sweat, and despite the cool water of my shower, I was still flushed and utterly uncomfortable, as well as nauseous. This, once every two months, all the while throwing out pheromones designed to entice some Alpha to mount me? Ugh. Some of my unrest must have been written in my face when I joined Mother in the kitchen, absently braiding my damp hair. She immediately sat me in the window sea with an air of excitement. "I had hoped you might feel that way. I have a plan."_

_Her plan was this: While Father was away, I would just... Be a Beta. She had somehow managed to get her hands on some Heat suppressants, something normally only an Alpha would have access to. Also, given that Father was away so often, he had given her all his Network passwords, so she had not bothered to register me as available for bidding. She then led me upstairs and showed me why my childhood toybox had been left in my room. It only contained enough of my old toys to hide the many layers of non-Omega clothes stored below. One of her many friends owned a restaurant; he agreed to have me come work in his kitchens, and would help us in keeping my secret, if I so chose. No one but him would know what I truly was. I would be as free as it is possible to be, and Mother had known even before I had that it would be my dream, and had seen to making it a reality._

_It would be dangerous. No Omega had ever done such a thing. We were only allowed jobs if our Heats were gone, be it through age or the death of our bonded. We had no idea what the consequences would be were we ever found out. Still, the freedom I was being offered made my stomach flutter, pumpkin coloured excitement dashing through me. We called him that day. Sevastianos was a big Greek bear of a Beta. When he arrived at our house, his scent was faint, and his personality was huge. I learned that the former was true of all Betas, and the latter seemed to be a Greek thing. He tossed a carton of cigarettes to my Mother, who returned my narrow eyed glare with a sheepish grin, and then he strode over to me and took me by the shoulders. He turned me around, looked me up and down from seemingly every angle, and then finally, he stepped back, his expression never once wavering from an intimidating frown. I would later learn that this was pretty much his trademark expression, no matter what was happening around him._

_"Well, you will have to dress carefully to hide those hips, boy." Then he stepped back and thrust his hand out to me._

_"Well, boy?" He barked. "Do you want to come work for me? It'll be hard, and I won't be treating you special just because you are pretty. you'll be peeling vegetables and washing dishes with the others, all the same." Here, he cocked an eyebrow at me. My excitement finally spilled over, and I grinned widely; then I shook his hand._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone else would like to try their hand at Beta-ing as well, the more the merrier! Simply comment with your email address, and I will get back to you right away.


End file.
